Godclads - Chapter 18Book 34: Let Slip the Hounds

When Yue Qiang dropped all 8 free distribution stat points into his Charm stat, his entire life changed.

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She shouldn’t have got drunk, so she wouldn’t have court the troubles.
She slept with a handsome man and would be sent to the police?
Oh, my sweet Jesus…
“So you just ran away like nothing happened after you slept with me?”
“Old jerk! Even if I had the initiative, it was you who took advantage of me!”
As a saying goes, the more spoiled a president gets, the more likely he becomes a scumbag.
An adorable ‘wildcat’ vs. a scheming frenemy.
This was a love rivalry between a modern Cinderella and a Big Boss.
As time flew, the world was like a fleeting show.
When they met again after several years of separation, he held her hand tightly and swore that he would never give her any chance to leave him again!
Finally, he asked her to marry him and pampered his cute wifey with his endless love.

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After three days of working nonstop, Cheng Zhaoci has transmigrated (read: had a stroke) as is everyone’s wish.

What does it feel like to transmigrate into a male, the rarer s*x of the insectoid race?

Cheng Zhaoci would reply, ‘yeah never mind that, there is still work that is my job to do.’

One day, the internet of the insectoids that had a sore lack of entertainment media suddenly featured a new account that had short serial comics. The comics had sweet love, passionate fighting, and all sorts of imaginative stories. Many fans flock to follow this account. Of course, many shemales were sceptical of the 1-to-1 monogamous love depicted in those comics.

Later, when Wing Commander Wei Zhuo was deep behind enemy lines, his xiongzhu, the Wing Commander Cheng Zhaoci came to rescue him without hesitation. That is when the shemales realised – there certainly can be sweet, sweet, love. It just doesn’t belong to them.

The shemales only want to smile and wave them away.

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Every trace of my entire youth is engraved with the same name.

When I see the trees on the street and the clouds on the horizon, I will think of him unconsciously.

I remember the bubble tea he ordered for me, and the sparklers he lit up for me.

Those memories supported me through difficult days and made me think I was special at one point.

When I was young, I often wondered, is it possible? Even if it is one in ten thousand, what if I am the heroine in his story?

I have said goodbye to him countless times, on the phone, on WeChat, face to face, every time without pressure, because I know there will be another meeting.

But this time is different, Xu Jiamu, this time I really want to say goodbye to you.

“Goodbye, Xu Jiamu.”

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